


The Anti-Valentine's Day Party

by nowforruin



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Swan Secret Valentine 2017, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9698138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowforruin/pseuds/nowforruin
Summary: “Sitting alone in my apartment on the biggest commercial bullshit holiday of the year is perfectly reasonable when I’m single. What do you want me to do, go hang out with my brother and his wife up in some ridiculous ski resort cabin? They don’t even ski.”“I want you to come get drunk with me and the rest of our single friends who call bullshit on today.”Emma grins. “That’s more like it.”“Damn straight. And remember, this is the we don’t give a shit party. Dress code is pajama chic. Yoga pants and leggings are acceptable. Jeans are not.” Ruby pauses, as though she can sense Emma rolling her eyes. “And if you’re not here by seven, I’m coming to get you.”





	

 

 

“You’re still coming to the party tonight, right?”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, stabbing at her phone to put it on speaker and tossing it onto her passenger seat. “I’m just leaving the liquor store. Yes, I’ll be there,” she assures Ruby, carefully placing the bag of booze on the passenger side floor with a pleasant clinking of bottles.

 

“Is Elsa coming with you?”

 

Emma wrinkles her nose, clicking her seat belt into place and shoving the keys into the ignition. “She’s doing something with Liam.”

 

“Killian’s brother Liam? When did that happen?”

 

“Like a week ago? Killian forgot his jacket, and his brother was with him when he stopped by the apartment. Elsa was doing yoga in the living room. Apparently they go to the same studio, but he goes on Tuesday and she goes on Wednesday, and they just started going on and on while Killian and I stood there staring at them like the insane people they are. They decided to go together on Monday, and I sort of haven’t seen much of her since.”

 

“Huh.” Ruby’s surprise is evident in her response, but then she adds, “Wait, Killian forgot his jacket? How does someone forget their jacket when it’s negative ten?”

 

Emma groans, because she knows this tone of voice, and she knows exactly how Ruby is going to react. “I might have been wearing it, and I fell asleep.”

 

“Emma.”

 

“Don’t start. David told me when they went out on Friday Killian got like three different phone numbers. He is _not_ in love with me.” She rolls her eyes, glaring at the red light she’s stopped at as if it’s done her personal harm. “I’m practically his kid sister. Let it go.”

 

“But–”

 

“Ruby, I swear if you don’t shut up about Killian and his non-existent feelings for me, I am staying home with this bottle of tequila tonight.”

 

Ruby’s sigh carries with it the hundred versions of this conversation they’d had over the last year. Ruby is convinced that Killian has been in love with Emma forever, and Emma is convinced that since she was introduced as David’s little sister, that’s all Killian has ever seen her as. Sure, he’s protective – but so is David. It doesn’t _mean_ anything. And besides, he flirts with practically every attractive woman who crosses his path.

 

“Fine, but only because I am _not_ letting you sit home alone on Valentine’s Day moping.”

 

“I do not mope!”

 

“Sitting alone in your apartment on the most romantic day of the year is moping.”

 

“Sitting alone in my apartment on the biggest commercial bullshit holiday of the year is perfectly reasonable when I’m single. What do you want me to do, go hang out with my brother and his wife up in some ridiculous ski resort cabin? _They don’t even ski_.”

 

“I want you to come get drunk with me and the rest of our single friends who call bullshit on today.”

 

Emma grins. “That’s more like it.”

 

“Damn straight. And remember, this is the _we don’t give a shit_ party. Dress code is pajama chic. Yoga pants and leggings are acceptable. Jeans are not.” Ruby pauses, as though she can sense Emma rolling her eyes. “And if you’re not here by seven, I’m coming to get you.”

 

-x-

 

It’s ten after seven by the time Emma gets to Ruby’s, tugging on the hem of her shirt and wondering why she followed her friend’s ridiculous rule. She feels a little silly – okay, a lot – attending a party in a pair of black leggings and a simple black t-shirt, especially since the ensemble is topped off with snow boots, a heavy coat, scarf, and beanie.

 

“I was about ten seconds from sending Graham after you,” Ruby announces as Emma shrugs out of her coat, kicking off her snow boots next to the door and carefully stepping away from the growing puddle of ice and melting snow left by everyone’s shoes.

 

“It’s snowing. I decided to walk instead of take the Bug out in this mess.” Emma tosses an eye roll over her shoulder, producing a liquor bottle from her bag. “Will this shut you up?”

 

Ruby grins, taking the bottle and leading Emma into the apartment where the rest of their friends are assembled, one arm slung around her shoulders. “This is why we’re friends.”

 

Emma laughs, her hesitation and worry about the party fading as she takes in the group. Graham works at the bar with Ruby, so she’s met him enough times to be comfortable around him – the fact that he’s into men also helps. There’s a few other people from the bar who Emma doesn’t know but whose faces she recognizes, and then a handful of other mutual friends. “What’s Regina doing here?” she asks quietly, spotting their definitely-not-single friend.

 

Ruby follows her glance, shrugging. “She told me not to ask. I’m guessing her and Robin got in a fight?”

 

“Okay, definitely not asking.” Emma looks around the apartment once more, noticing that despite this party becoming a yearly tradition, the numbers this year are definitely lower. “Where is everyone?”

 

Ruby grabs two shot glasses and twists open the cap of the tequila bottle open in answer.

 

“Well, Elsa is off with Liam doing...whatever.” She dumps a healthy amount of tequila in one glass, shoving it in front of Emma. “Mary Margaret and David are being their usual disgustingly in love selves. Belle told me Will had some surprise planned for them.”

 

Emma snorts, lifting her glass to her lips and raising her brow at her friend. “A surprise trip to jail?”

 

Ruby shrugs, clinking her glass against Emma’s and swallowing the liquor down. She immediately reaches for the bottle as they set the glasses down, scowling. “Probably. But it somehow works for them, so they’re out. Ariel and Eric got engaged like a month ago. The single crowd is dwindling.” She flashes Emma a bright grin, pushing a freshly filled shot glass in front of her. “So drink up, because I refuse to be depressed about it tonight.”

 

“Seems like a reasonable plan to me.” She swallows the tequila, savoring the burn and the heady warmth coursing through her, but a knock on the door catches Ruby’s attention before Emma can ask if this is everyone she’s expecting.

 

Killian Jones is the last person Emma expects to see standing on the other side of the door.

 

“What are you doing here?” she blurts out as he walks in, shrugging out of his leather jacket to reveal a pair of hideous pajama pants – really, where the hell did he even find men’s pajama pants with freaking neon pink hearts on them – and a long-sleeve charcoal shirt that clings to his lean frame. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

 

He grins as he turns back to the two women, pulling a bottle of rum from his coat pocket before leaving it on the hook by Ruby’s door. “Ruby said if I didn’t come in pajamas she wouldn’t let me in.”

 

Ruby laughs, nudging Emma in the ribs. “Oh, c’mon, I think they’re fun.”

 

“Yeah, Swan, they’re _fun._ ” Killian waggles his eyebrows at her, and she hates him a little bit in that moment, because somehow the bastard manages to look _good_ despite his ridiculous getup.

 

“Why are you even here?” she grumbles, snatching his rum bottle and twisting the cap off. “Aren’t there like ten different women you could be with tonight?” Emma takes a swig off the bottle without looking at him, ignoring Ruby’s choked laugh.

 

So maybe she has a little bit of thing for Killian. Maybe she knows it’s impossible because she’s shit at relationships, and he’s David’s best friend, so it’s not like she can just walk away when it inevitably goes to hell. And besides, it’s not like he’s interested, anyway. Killian can have a different woman every night of the week – and does. What would he want with his friend’s kid sister?

 

And as if he can hear her thoughts, as if the goddamn universe is mocking her, Killian slings one arm around her shoulders and one arm around Ruby’s. “But the only women I want are right here,” he teases in a over-the-top, cheesy tone. He smacks a kiss on her cheek, wet and ridiculous, and he’s laughing when she pushes him away.

 

“I hate you.” Emma rubs at her face with one hand, shoving the rum bottle behind her back with the other. “Seriously? You do _that_ and then you think I’m giving the rum back? No way.”

 

“Love, it’s poor form to steal a man’s rum. And I know you’ve got a bottle of tequila around here somewhere, so be a darling and hand it over.”

 

It’s probably the liquor – it’s definitely the liquor – but Emma does no such thing. Instead she offers him a taunting smirk, backing away. “No, I think I’ll keep it.”

 

“Swan.”

 

“Jones.”

 

He lunges for her without warning, but Emma has always been quick on her feet and darts out of his way. What ensues is a somewhat pathetic wrestle for the bottle, Emma unable to stop herself even though she knows this really isn’t her style, that being _playful_ with Killian is something she doesn’t do without a liberal dose of liquid courage.

 

But then she catches sight of Ruby rolling her eyes, her weary sigh preceding, “If you two seriously pull a Will and Belle on me tonight after all these years of not being able to figure your shit out, I swear I’m just spending next year drinking alone.”

 

And it’s like someone has sucked the air out of Emma’s lungs, her laughter catching in her throat as she suddenly realizes Killian’s arms are around her, and he’s breathing hard at her back from his own laughter and their struggle. He’s so close, and yet Ruby’s words just drive home the point that this is as close as he’s going to get, so she stops fighting him and hands over the bottle.

 

“You’re right, I like tequila better,” she tells him, heading back toward the kitchen.

 

-x-

 

The crowd thins as the night goes on. Ruby convinces Regina to go home, Emma pretends that spending Valentine’s Day with Killian while _not_ spending Valentine’s Day with Killian is just fine, and they drink far more than they should.

 

Which is how Killian, Emma, Ruby, and Graham end up sharing Ruby’s couch and an extra large pizza somewhere around midnight. They’re one giant tangle of limbs – Killian’s arm rests along the back of Emma’s shoulders and Emma’s legs are thrown over Ruby’s, while Ruby herself snuggles into Emma’s side, one of her legs on Graham’s. And it’s comfortable, because they’re all friends, and they’ve all had a lot to drink. It’s freezing outside, and Emma doesn’t relish stumbling back to her apartment on icy sidewalks.

 

She doesn’t really relish getting up, either, upsetting the delicate balance of limbs, but her need to pee outweighs her desire to stay put, so she eventually disentangles herself, leaving the rest of them to the pizza and the SNL rerun Ruby found flipping channels. When she glances back, Killian’s arm remains around the back of the couch, and Ruby yawns before snuggling into his side.

 

Which shouldn’t bother her one bit, because they’re all friends, and it’s no different than when Ruby curls up with Graham. She’s not interested in either of them – it’s just Ruby.

 

Like how Killian is just being Killian when he aimlessly toys with her hair.

 

Her head swims as she stumbles down the hall toward the bathroom, the fun, drunk part of her evening slowly sliding into the inevitable hangover. It’s an unwelcome reminder she’s closer to thirty than twenty now, and as she splashes water on her face after washing her hands, Emma gives herself a hard look in the mirror.

 

She nearly walks into Killian on her way out.

 

“You all right, love?” he asks, his hands gentle on her shoulders as he steadies her. “You’ve been in there a while.”

 

“Just tired.” Emma yawns as she says it, shoving her hands awkwardly in her pockets. “I hate this crap holiday.”

 

He nods, but he doesn’t move out of her way, one of his hands moving to rub absently at the back of his neck. “About what you said earlier…” He trails off, his eyes flicking toward hers and then darting away again. “Me being here, that is. I–”

 

“I was just giving you a hard time,” Emma cuts in, waving off whatever it is he’s going to say in that painfully earnest tone.

 

“I meant it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

 

“Ruby does throw a good party.”

 

He laughs, the hand on her shoulder moving into her hair. “She does, but Emma...don’t you get it by now?”

 

“Get what?”

 

“You’re impossible,” he mumbles, but she doesn’t have time to ask him what the hell he means by _that_ because his lips are on hers, a delicate, soft kiss that she barely knows how to react to – until she suddenly does.

 

Rising onto the tips of her toes, she throws herself into the kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck, and there’s very little soft or delicate about the low groan that escapes him. The door frame at her back, Killian’s body pressed to hers, Emma loses herself in the taste and feel of him. She forgets they’re at Ruby’s, forgets they’ve both had a bit to drink, forgets it’s freaking Valentine’s Day.

 

All she knows is that for whatever reason, Killian decided to kiss her, and she’s going to keep kissing him before he changes his mind.

 

Until Ruby comes around the corner, and her voice cuts through the haze. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she all but shouts at the two of them, throwing her hands up. “That’s it. This is the last anti-Valentine’s party. Last year it was Belle and Will. This year it’s you guys. Ugh, get out of my apartment.” Her grin as Emma catches her eye takes the sting out of it, and Emma knows Ruby is going to show up at her apartment tomorrow with coffee and demand an explanation, but tonight, all she gets is a teasing smirk.

 

“The movie isn’t over,” Emma protests weakly, suddenly unsure of herself now that Killian isn’t kissing her. Maybe it’s just the liquor that prompted him into it? Maybe he thinks it was a mistake?

 

“So watch the rest at your place,” Ruby shoots back, rolling her eyes. “Make out in your own hallway.”

 

Behind her, Killian’s low laughter vibrates against her back, and she realizes despite Ruby’s teasing, he’s still pressed close. “Come along, love. I’ll walk you home,” he offers, and when she turns to look at him, there’s a faint flush in his cheeks that reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. “If you’d like, that is.”

 

“Um, okay, sure.” Emma smiles shyly, awkward as a middle school dance standing in Ruby’s apartment and feeling like she’s in a pool of quicksand despite the sturdy wood floor beneath her feet. “It’s late anyway. We should go.”

 

Killian nods his agreement, and they shuffle out into the living room, ignoring Graham’s confused look as they make their goodbyes. It isn’t until they’re out on the street, the cold February air biting Emma’s cheeks, that she dares to look at Killian again – only to find him watching her.

 

“What?” she asks, her tendency toward defensiveness kicking in.

 

“If I overstepped–”

 

“Overstepped?” She stops in the middle of the sidewalk, and to anyone walking by, they have to look utterly ridiculous – her in her huge coat and beanie, him in those freaking heart pants and snow boots with a leather jacket. “What the hell are you talking about?” Her confusion makes her irritable, and she’s more than a little embarrassed by the way she threw herself at him when he kissed her.

 

“The...the kiss. I thought…” He shrugs, scratching behind his ear and glancing down at the slushy sidewalk before meeting her gaze. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, so I apologize if I overstepped.”

 

“You what?”

 

“Really, love, I–”

 

“No, not that. For how long?” Emma demands, her heart racing and her body suddenly on fire despite the cold night around them.

 

He sighs, shifting his weight before answering, “A couple of years.”

 

“Years?” she manages to get out, her disbelief pitching her voice high. “But all those women from the bar…”

 

“There have been very few women for quite a while, Swan.”

 

“But…” She trails off, staring up at him helplessly as she realizes what he’s trying to say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Telling my best mate’s sister I’m half in love with her seemed like poor form.” He reaches for her, his touch tentative until she moves into his arms. “Then you asked me why I was here tonight, and I decided the hell with good form, I had to try.” His eyes catch hers, intense as she’s ever seen them, and deadly serious. She’s the one to move forward, to press her lips to his and slip her hands inside his jacket.

 

But when the kiss breaks, Emma takes a shaky breath, a tentative, warm sort of happiness flooding her veins. “I still hate Valentine’s Day,” she tells him, poking at one of the hearts on his pants. “And these pants.”

 

“We’ll see about that next year,” he replies with a grin, looping his arm around her shoulders and steering her back in the direction of her apartment. “And if you’d like me to take the pants off, darling, all you’ve got to do is ask.”

 

Emma asks.

 

And when a year has gone by, and it’s Valentine’s Day once again, Emma comes home to find Killian cooking them dinner in those same damn pants and nothing else.

 

So she asks again.

 


End file.
